Tales of Knights
by Princess Coeurl
Summary: FFIV A collections of moments from the lives of Baron's knights Light Kain/Cecil
1. Worth

The door to the cannon control room slammed shut just as they were thrown into the clear. Cecil was back up in less than a second, yelling and pulling and banging on the door, shouting for Yang to stop this nonsense. Rydia was there too, pleading through the metal for the monk to reconsider; hadn't they already lost too many allies? Kain and Rosa simply stood, resigned.

The paladin was the first to regain his composure, gently taking the summoner by the shoulders, then roughly by the arm when the floor shuddered beneath them. Cecil dragged her forward, throwing the two away from the door just in time to be spared the brunt of the explosion.

Rosa moved to console the green-haired girl as Cecil began to walk with purpose, leading the group back out of the tower and not waiting to see if they followed.

Kain stayed a ways behind him, eyes on the floor just touched by the paladin's boots. He had not known Yang long, but had come to deeply respect him from his solid strength and quiet confidence. This last act had proven him to be yet another undeniably heroic character, and in the wake of such sacrifice Kain could not help but wonder if, presented with such a situation, he could do the same. For the team. For the world.

"Do not even think it." The paladin had not turned, not even broken step, but it was obvious to whom and of what he was speaking. The unusual harshness in his voice made Kain look up.

Anger flared in him suddenly. Did Cecil doubt him this much, after all his talk of forgiveness? Was he denying that Kain would take a mortal blow for Rosa, or Cecil himself, without a second thought? Especially now, now when he was so painfully aware of the value of his life compared to theirs.

Cecil kept walking, seemingly obvious of the glare threatening to set his hair ablaze. "Just remember that if you do, I will hunt you down and make you regret it. Even in the afterlife, don't think you're safe. I have enough people to track down already; don't make me go after one more."

Kain's shame was immediate; of the two of them, he was the only one who doubted him. Except…

"I cannot believe this universe so broken as to send you to the same place as I."

Cecil did turn a bit then, profile just visible behind a curtain of light hair. "That is not an issue. I will find you regardless."

At this Kain had to turn away, silently cursing himself once again as he blinked away the signs of his weakness.


	2. Growing Pains

Word: exponent - noun - 1: a symbol written above and to the right of a mathematical expression to indicate the operation of raising to a power; 2: a: one that expounds or interprets; b: one that champions, practices, or exemplifies  
A/N: Ever see those pairs of boys in high school, guys who had been the same height for ages but now one was six feet tall and the other still looks like a kid? That's the image I had writing this.Though I'm still debating what to do about Cecil's aging...

It was bizarre, this change, Kain thought as he parried Cecil's sword. He'd always felt disadvantaged in these spars, with Cecil's superior technique making up for Kain's speed and reach. Now, though, if the fifteen year-old dragoon just used a little force...

Kain's spear whistled as it came down. There was a crack and Cecil yelped, dropping his sword and cradling his arm.

As Kain rushed over to his friend, the strange angle of the limb caught his attention. Damn it, he'd only meant to break Cecil's guard, not his arm.

"Are you all right?" Kain asked, leaning down to inspect Cecil's arm. It was a bad break, one that would require the attention of a white wizard quickly to ensure the boy wouldn't be permanently crippled.

Cecil's complexion was even whiter than usual and he was biting his lip as if trying not to cry. But he seemed to have made the same observation. "Sorry I missed that block. Can you splint it?"

Kain nodded, ignoring the first comment to wish that he'd tried a little harder to learn the white magic Rosa had been so keen on teaching them. It wouldn't have been able to change their situation much, but at least he could have eased the pain he'd caused.

With the efficiency of the soldier he still trained to become, Kain soon had the arm splinted, bracing it with pieces he'd broken from his practice spear.

After a few steps toward the castle Kain realized that Cecil wasn't going to make it. Between the pain and the fact that they'd skipped lunch that day it was no surprise that he looked about to faint.

After a moment's deliberation, Kain bent down and picked up the weakly protesting boy. He wouldn't have been able to do this last year, or even a few months ago, Kain reflected as he headed for a narrow door in the castle wall. He'd gained a significant amount of height and muscle recently, as had many of the other boys his age, and was finally starting to look more a man than a boy. His improved strength and speed, along with his overall fighting prowess, were ultimately what had gotten his accepted to the ranks of the dragoons, the youngest trainee they'd admitted in half a century.

Kain glanced down at his friend nestled against his chest. He looked like a child, despite the white hair, and even more so with Kain's far more muscular arms supporting him.

And were it not for this difference this whole situation could have been avoided. Still, Kain knew there was nothing either of them could do about it. He could lament his atrocious lack of restraint later. He could deal with Cecil's hurt pride then too.

Cecil reached out and pulled open the door when they reached it, and for a moment their eyes met. Kain was more relieved than he had any reason to be to see not even a hint of blame or resentment aimed at him.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised, Kain thought, carefully climbing the stairs so as not to jostle his friend. After all, it would take more than a growth spurt to get between them.


	3. Measure of a Paladin

Word: effulgence - noun - radiant splendor: brilliance

A/N: AU because of The After Years, which I generally ignore. Because seriously, Kain? Twenty years on the dang mountain?

"A change of purpose, not of character," was how Cecil had described it. It had taken Kain a while to see it that way. Before, he'd have called it inner peace, enlightenment, ascension to the heavens where Kain could not follow. Certainly a profound change: a change, and a barrier.

It was a barrier he was now on the other side of, in a sense. He'd taken the mountain's trial, though it had not been the straightforward thing Cecil spoke of.

Instead he'd relived it, his darkest hours. He'd been given the second chance he'd never thought possible, a chance to right the his greatest wrongs against those he cared for most.

And he'd rejected it. For what did it matter if he could play out the scenario correctly if they were not his true friends but pale illusions of his memory and the chamber's magic? He knew what he'd wanted to do, what he'd wanted to do with the scene once more laid out before him, to push aside his doubts for once and embrace the promises of what he could have had.

But acting that out here wouldn't change the past. Nothing could. And so he watched himself fall once more.  
And, somehow, the spirit of the shrine had been satisfied.

Kain had been left out in the sun and wind of the mountain's summit. He still wore a dragoon's armor, he noticed, but it was no longer his father's armor he was so accustomed to. The changes were subtle, but he could tell simply from the weight of it on his body; a sharper taper here, a bevel there. Still a part of the legacy he chased, but also wholly his own.

"A change of purpose," Kain pronounced, liking how the words felt as they left his mouth. A change of purpose, but not of anything else that really mattered.

So he jumped, the mountain rising above him as plummeted earthward. He no longer needed it; he had things to do. The past he could not change, but the future, the future was as open as the sky.


	4. Exception

Word: asterisk - noun - the character * used in printing or writing as a reference mark, as an indication of the omission of letters or words, to denote a hypothetical or unattested linguistic form, or for various arbitrary meanings

Baron castle's main hall was a sight to behold, strewn with garlands of fresh roses and banners of Baronian reds and blacks. The knights flanking the hall were no less impressive, each done up in finery befitting their rank and skill.

Standing at attention at the rear of the ranks of Baron's dark knights, Cecil tried his best to look only at the slight discoloration on that single stone on the wall on the far side of the hallway. He hated such events. Though he did not begrudge Damcyan's royalty the pomp and circumstance befitting them as visiting monarchs, he wished each time that there were some way he could avoid attending without besmirching the honor of king and kingdom.

Ah, and here came the guest of honor. Cecil ran his gaze up the length of the discolored spot on the stone, noting it to be slightly dragon-shaped, much like Mysidia. He clenched his hands to his sides so as to not subconsciously reach for his hair.

He'd counted half the dragon's teeth when he felt it. Someone was staring, at him. He tried not to move, focusing entirely on standing in perfect form, eyes straight ahead.

The feeling passed with the figure in red and gold. The man didn't appear to be much older than Cecil himself, from what Cecil caught of him without shifting his gaze. Shouldn't a man his age know better than to stare? Cecil himself was only sixteen and he had for years had the self control and respect for others necessary to not ogle a foreign knight in such an obvious fashion. Well, he thought, perhaps such things were handled differently in Damcyan.

He found himself discretely searching for Kain among the ranks of the Dragoons a ways back down the hall, as he had each time this had happened over the years. Forcibly turning his eyes back to his spot on the wall, Cecil mentally reprimanded himself. He would have to be content with his Mysidia-map-dot for now.

The rest of the procession went just as expected. A few more of Damcyan's envoy let their eyes rest on him a moment longer than he liked, but that too was no different than any of the dozen or so other events he'd had to attend since joining the dark knights two years ago.

Not that any of this was a surprise. His original reception in Baron had been little different.

Perhaps it was because of this, because of the acceptance he'd gained and so cherished here that he so chafed at the stares, the harsh reminders that he did not quite belong among the ranks of golden-haired soldiers.

And if he could never be accepted for his appearance, how could he ever expect to be accepted for the hundred little things he just couldn't get right? Small things, like being fond of flowers, or bored by social visits, or afraid of the darkness that was his order's greatest ally?

They accepted him because they didn't know, and for that very reason they could never know. What few secrets he kept he would take to his grave. Then they could remember him as a soldier and a friend and not the heretic he felt himself to be, at times like this, singled out by the unbiased eyes of strangers.

The last of their guests had long since filtered into the throne room before the standing soldiers were dismissed. They were to take this time to ready themselves for the banquet and ball in honor of their guests this evening, more events Cecil for which found himself unable to muster much enthusiasm.

Kain found him moments after they were dismissed and the two of them headed for their rooms within the castle. Cecil barely listened to Kain's opinions on Damcyan's royals and their poor comparison to Baron's, so caught up was he in his own thoughts.

When they finally reached their quarters Kain turned to his friend and lightly smacked him on the back of the head to snap him out of his revery.

"Wake up Cecil," he said, amused look on his face. He knew how Cecil disliked these events, and made his own disgust no secret. "If you stand in that daze through the ball this evening I may have to converse with some of the young ladies from Damcyan, and we both know how that will end."

At this Cecil had to laugh; Kain was never one to hold his tongue, and it had caused problems on multiple occasions. He was so much more comfortable being with Kain again and away from the foreigners' appraising eyes, even with his heart thumping uncomfortably against his chest.

"...are you well?" Kain asked, amusement instantly replaced by concern. "You look a bit feverish."

Cecil shook his head, grinning. "I'm merely a little warm. Besides, if I miss the ball tonight, what will become of those poor defenseless flowers of Damcyan?"

Kain laughed and departed for his own chambers.

Cecil went to his own and shut the door behind him, leaning on the cool stone of the wall. He couldn't give this up, this life he had. No matter how much it hurt to keep his silence, no matter if they condemned him at his final judgment as a sinner and a fraud, if it got him even one more day of this easy camaraderie he would hold his secrets as if his life depended on it. Because in a way, it did.


End file.
